"This
moose has been browsing his way through a willow swamp. The gentle
snow of the
night
before has settled on every little twig. In
fact, a few flakes are still falling, creating
a
counterpoint
of dedicate white tracery against the powerful planes of the moose’s
form.
The tranquility of this scene is short-lived, however.
For some reason the bull moose decides
to charge in my direction.
At the very last moment he veers off, giving me a baleful glance
as he thunders past." - Robert Bateman